Special Dark

One of the best things about wintertime is how early the darkness sets in. (I know, I know, this is also one of the worst things about wintertime, too)

In the summer, we have to wait so long until it's really dark, it can be a rare treat to experience the darkness outside. But in the winter, there's often time to play outside for a little while in the evening, before bed. And, up here in the hinterlands, it gets good and dark very early.

How often do you play outside at night? There is something just wonderful about playing outside in the darkness. Things look different. Even here in the city, most nights, we can see stars. At least a few. That's really exciting. And the moon, seen from the backyard, rather than through a window? That's thrilling too! It can be so exciting to experience familiar places like one's own backyard, or the sandbox, or even the driveway and a sidewalk or path you've walked every day, suddenly in the dark. It takes on a specialness that is almost sublime.

And what is the first thing we noticed when playing outside the other night? Things are quieter. Which somehow seems to encourage children to be quieter. Very few cars drive by. We can hear dogs barking from a few blocks away. We move more slowly, as if checking out the terrain for the first time (and, in a way, we are.) The snow (if you're lucky enough to be outside, at night, during a snowfall) twinkles and sparkles in the dark. You can create your own snowfall by throwing a shovelfull up into the sky, then watching it fall.

The snow on the ground casts a special glow that is just incredible to play in. Snow angels look more angelic. Everything is more enchanting.

Bring it on

The snow is coming! It's been lightly snowing all day here and the past couple of mornings we've found snow on the ground when we got up. It's supposed to stay in the 20's or below this week. The kids are beside themselves.

So this is it! Winter is finally upon us. This morning the kids could barely contain their excitement. L looked at me after she had her face pressed against the window, "The snow is coming, the snow is coming! Are you sad?"

Now granted, it's no secret which season I prefer. Despite this, I do know how to have a good time in the winter, and have grown to love many different outdoor activities: snowshoeing, skiing, winter hikes, etc. But still. Give me an 85 degree day with sunshine over snow anytime. The kids and their father refer to themselves as "winter people," while I am the sole "summer person" in the family.

It is easy for me to gripe and moan about the season's change. I'm cold. Winter is so messy. I don't have gloves yet. I want just a few more weeks that are "unseasonably warm." But this morning, I wasn't crying. Despite the gray sky, the cold temperatures, and the oh-so-dry indoor air, I think I'm ready for this.

It helps to have kids who are so enthusiastic. Truly, they are my role models. I will receive this snow, this season with all the wonder and delight that they do. I will catch snowflakes on my tongue, I will drop everything and play outside with them, even if I'm not in the mood. We will play with ice, eat snow, and go sledding. I am counting on them to remind me how fun this can be.

Questions

I've got a question for you. Well, a few actually.

Several friends and blog readers have mentioned to me that as children, they played outside alone for long stretches of time, stayed out exploring until the sun went down, all without parents nearby. Of course, my kids are only 4 and 2, so obviously some of these things don't apply yet. But it's got me thinking, wondering. No matter what the ages of our children, these questions could spark an interesting discussion.

First: Do you have memories of roaming "aimlessly" outside in nature as a child?
I do-so, so many of them. I must have spent hours as a young child lying in the grass on a hill near our house--but not close enough that any parents could "supervise" my play outside.

Next: How often do you let your kids roam--without you nearby? How much physical distance is comfortable for you outside? How far can they get from you before you worry? Why? Does it depend on the setting, the other people nearby? Is this different from what you had the freedom to do as a child of that same age?

What is this about, this change in circumstance? Are we more-or less-protective than our parents were? Why? Do you believe the world is less safe than it was 20 or 30 or 40 years ago?

Empty Spaces

Remember exuberance?

I love visiting big, open areas with my kids: spaces with few trees, few rocks, not much of anything other than grass (or sand). Playing with with them in places like this is so fun. It's different than the way they play when there are trees and rocks to climb, sticks to collect, leaves to pile up.

They jump. They dance. They spin in circles. Sometimes, they just run. They have room to move, to whip through the air with nothing nearby-just glorious space. They move their bodies through this space, feeling what they're capable of, trying new things, feeling the wind in their hair. Learning what fast feels like. And sometimes, what slow feels like. They play chase. They throw things as far and as hard as they can.

Usually they are also very loud, as if the wide-open-ness of the wide-open spaces just begs their voices to be as full and loud as can be. And how many places are there where kids can really yell, shout, scream, really check out what their voices can do?

It's great to visit these places and watch our kids revel in the freedom, but how about you? Do you remember how to spin in circles until you are dizzy? Roll down a hill? Whoop and holler just because you can? Go outside and find some open space. Your kids will remind you how to do these things. I promise.

An apology to the mother in France, whom I judged 15 years ago...(and to a flock of cedar waxwings)

Many years ago, pre-kids, D and I were in a beautiful open square in Paris. We were sitting on the edge of a water fountain eating brie and bread, watching families as they strolled around.

A cute child of about 2 was interested in a large flock of pigeons as they strutted around and pecked at the gravel on the street. Without warning, the child suddenly screamed and rushed at the pigeons, then laughed riotously as they took to the air, an explosion of feathers and flapping.

After a few minutes,the birds settled again and resumed their pecking and strutting. And then, the child gave a repeat performance: screaming and running toward them as fast as he could. The pigeons, in a flurry, took off again.

I remember feeling totally appalled that a mother would allow her kid to treat animals that way. Scaring the pigeons, stressing them out for his own amusement? WTF? I cried to D, outraged. (Disclaimer: I was a bit of a vehement animal rights activist back then)

And then, I did what all women do before they have kids. I swore that when I had kids I would never....

Fast forward 15 (yes, 15 years)I am remembering this incident because just last week, we were frolicking in the mid-day sunshine at a nearby park. We found ourselves lucky enough to be near a tree where there was a flock of cedar waxwings perched, gorging themselves on berries to fatten up for their migration south.

My kids were enthralled. There must have been 50 birds sprinkled in the branches of a small tree bare of leaves, sporting nothing but huge red berries. They were eating them as fast as their little beaks could pick them off.

Suddenly, (you saw this one coming) J screamed and ran as fast as he could toward the tree, waving his arms and yelling. The birds left the tree as if they were one single creature, taking off from the branches, swirling through the air, then returning to the same tree. The kids and I stood, mesmerized. I forgot all about "correcting" J for yelling at the birds- what we were witnessing was so beautiful.

Once the birds had become comfortable, J did it again! He screamed, ran toward the birds, and off they fluttered. In short order, they came back. Honestly, it was fascinating to watch the birds fly together like a ribbon in the air, and then return, minutes later. More fascinating was watching my children as they saw their actions have immediate effects on wild animals. Watching them realize, "Hey, I have power! I can make things happen!" And most importantly, watching them, completely thrilled and captivated by the fluid motion of birds. Excited by animals and how they react to things.

Sorry, lady in France, wherever you are. I get it now.

PS: The birds, I'm quite sure, are fine. The noise my kids created was minimal compared with what these urban guys deal with every day. And I really don't think the stress created by a couple of yells was enough to do any real damage.

Savor it

There is, no doubt about it, a chill in the air. Fall is packin' up and headin' out.

I know, I know, I'm still in denial about this whole "change of seasons" thing. Halloween has passed. Election day is behind us. The leaves are very quickly departing from the trees. OK-I know. They're pretty much gone.

All too soon, it will be cold, overcast, and wet. Cruddy weather, the biggest barrier I know to getting outside. As much as I advocate being outside every single day, even I will admit it is far easier and often more enjoyable to be outside on a sunny day than on a day that's cold, wet, snowy and gray as far as the eye can see. And we have so many of those days in Minnesota.

So when we are blessed with a few more amazing fall days--huge white clouds, crisp fresh air, sunshine- the kids and I pack up our stuff and head outside-anywhere. We just have to savor every last minute of this: We can still run around with our jackets unzipped. No hats. No mittens. We may start out with them, but they quickly come off and lie forgotten on the trail.

Right now, I'm scrambling like a squirrel, getting us outside as often as possible to soak it up. This usually just means we do whatever it is we were going to do anyway, only we do it outside... we move snack time to the back yard, we read on the front step, or we take the toy trains out to the park for a special adventure.

Anything, anything to get us outside where we can relish this sunshine.

Risk Assessment.

The kids and I spent a glorious morning over the weekend leading a "nature playgroup" at a wonderful and underappreciated gem of an urban park. (One of my most delightful jobs is to lead these nature playdates for families with children...we get out and explore the urban park system and generally have fun just messing around in natural areas.)

J and L (and about 15 other kids!)were frolicking in the sunshine, picking up leaves and tossing them high into the air. We were all on a hill that was dotted with huge, sprawling oak trees. There were sticks and acorns everywhere. J immediately found a stick about 6 inches long, as big around as, oh, I don't know, Barbie's leg. He didn't want to put it down. He was carrying it around under his arm, holding it like a walking stick, even cuddling with it at one point. And in his exuberance, he was running and jumping.

I wasn't going to be "that parent" who won't let her kids play with sticks (and who am I kidding? I'm not that parent.)But then again, it did cross my mind that, well, he was running with a stick.

I actually had an entire internal dialogue about this: Should I put a stop to this? No, he's fine, he's having fun. Let him enjoy it. What's the problem? Relax, I told myself. You worry too much. A wisp of anxiety floated through my mind...well, he could get hurt, couldn't he? But really, what are the chances that he'll actually poke his eye out?

Well, wouldn't you know. The moment I had that awful thought, J fell down. Onto the stick. Luckily, it didn't actually enter his eye, but it came darn close. For a few moments there, I felt like The Worst Mother in the World (again). I mean, I let the kid run with a stick on wet leaves: OK, not the best choice.

So. The corner of his right eye is bruised, swollen, and scratched. He cried for a long time, but was OK. No real harm done. In fact, he's a little proud to tell the story to anyone who'll listen.

I've heard lots of reasons for parents and educators' not wanting kids to play with sticks, and injury is top among them. But it's often there that people stop. Well, OK, I ask them, so what if there was an injury. Would that be OK? Or not? Is the risk worth the benefit? How bad would it be?

When it comes to playing outside, many parents hope and try to eliminate the possibility of any injuries altogether. How can you mitigate every possible risk? I don't think this is realistic, or even possible. I'm certainly not saying I think injuries are good, and I'm not trying to minimize real risk and real injury. I'm just saying that sometimes minor injuries aren't necessarily as bad as we imagine them. The risk of getting poked with a stick is, to me, not high or bad enough to warrant removing sticks from my child's repertoire of playthings. And isn't that how it is with most risks involved in outdoor play? There is often a considerable risk of some relatively minor injury and a much, much smaller risk or something much, much worse. So, when do we refuse to let them have the experience because of the small risk that Something Really Bad will happen?

Now granted, I recognize J was darn lucky this weekend. It could have been really bad. But it wasn't. And most of the time, thank goodness, it just isn't.